


A Million Pieces

by weirdfishy



Series: Eskel-centric Modern AU [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Depression, Eskel has a snake, Eskel has a snake for no other purpose other than he couldn't feasibly have a goat in the city, Eskel own a little shop, Eskel's scar is new, I did give his shop a name after a goat, I gave Eskel a snake, I sorta just ran out of words, I was listening to Million Pieces (orchestral vers) by Bastille, Modern AU, Song-inspired, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Ideology, Suicidal Thoughts, a Scandinavian goat, and I have a snake so, aspects were inspired by pressedinthepages and g-a-y-b-a-c-o-n, at least the title, her name is Bartholomew, my tumblr: weirdfishy, or Themmy, or is it ideology, she's a corn snake, the ending is odd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdfishy/pseuds/weirdfishy
Summary: "It’s all he can do, to take pictures. Take pictures and remember. Use them to tether himself to the world when all he wants to do is close his eyes, take in a heady breath of clean air, and lose himself to his own mind."orModern au Eskel is dealing with the aftermath of getting his scar
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Eskel-centric Modern AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166663
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	A Million Pieces

Pictures. Eskel’s camera roll is full of them. **  
**

_After_ , at least. His camera roll was sparse and seldom past 300 _before_. Now all he can seem to do is have his phone in hand and taking pictures. It’s unconscious, the need to raise his phone and snap a picture. He doesn’t know _why_ he does it, day after day. He doesn’t want to know either. His head is a dangerous place these days.

Some pictures are inconsequential- a beam of sunlight, Bartholomew peeking out of her mulch, the way his plants hang in the morning, how he shaped a pastry _just so_ , a single letter that he wrote _perfectly_ , the mossy floor of the forest, a bird perched on a branch. 

Others are less so- Geralt’s resigned face next to Jaskier’s exuberant one - even in his hazy mind he thinks they should just fuck already - when he met them for a late lunch one week, Lambert cheekily sitting on the counter in the back room (after nearly buying out all of his stocks of anything maple-bacon with a hearty laugh amid customer protests) in another, Vesemir’s calm figure alongside him (but him unpictured) on their bi-monthly quiet hikes along the mountains.

They’re spaces of time he can see in perfect clarity, if he only looks back at them. 

Looking at the sunlight he can remember what day it was. Seeing Themmy’s small snout tells him to buy more mulch for her cage and defrost a mouse. His flourishing tomato plant asks him if he would try adding more savory options to Heiðrún’s menu.

Each pastry and flawlessly-formed loaf he has depicted makes him remember a customer’s relieved face at him having _just one more_ of an item, like it was left solely for them. He remembers the way a new customer melts into an old favorite, or how a regular still has the same contented air about them the moment they walk in. It shows him the consistent woman who buys tea she could get anywhere else and simply sits in the corner staring into it, and lets him hear the jingle of the door’s first ring of the day.

The letter, a small thing apart of a larger sign, reminds him that he is just one person in a rush of others.

Mossy green reminds him to take a breath.

A flighty bird reminds him to move.

-

Seeing Jaskier and Geralt tell him that life goes on, even if he doesn’t feel like it- the monotony he had so easily wrapped himself in is a blanket he thinks should be warmer. He forgets the searching look buried in Geralt’s eyes and the way Jaskier’s hugs linger.

_Where are you, Eskel? Where?_

_I’m still here, Eskel. **We’re still here**._

Letting familiar unheated words push past his lips and a side-eye reach Lambert lets him fall further into his head. He doesn’t register how Lambert doesn’t walk out with a properly chastised look on his face; doesn’t see the way Lambert’s fists twist and his eyes turn glossy. 

_Who are you? You- you’re **not** \- you **can’t** be Eskel. **No**._

Walking next to Vesemir every other week keeps him on edge- when he looks at his pictures it’s serene, all greens and browns, his adoptive father’s white hair stark against everything.

But he doesn’t have much of these. They make him think his brown hair would blend effortlessly with the dirt, that the new miniature valleys and mountains along his face could hold a garden of life pulled from him. They make him feel so coiled and ready to break at the slightest brush of a fallen leaf.

His own quiet is matched by Vesemir’s, but his own is a thousand times more stifling- he thinks Vesemir expects him to talk. He also thinks his cheek wouldn’t stop stretching if he opened it again willingly, that the blood and puss wouldn’t stop flowing if he let his family see the flesh and bone of his brow even once.

_I can’t lose another son. **Please** , Eskel, what do you need? What can I do? _

He forgets how Vesemir drove to get him, a pack of mulch he’d forgotten to buy, and a breakfast he’d deigned to forget in hand. He forgets the encouraging smile his dad gives him as he’s handed the home-made meal before Vesemir coaxes his snake out of her coil and onto his arm so he can change out the bedding.

* * *

When he stares at his phone, it’s the only light in his entire apartment. It’s the only light that seems to get him to see and think in what he thinks is rationality; it’s the only thing that some deep, vulnerable part of him processes and reacts to. 

It’s all he can do, to take pictures. Take pictures and remember. Use them to tether himself to the world when all he wants to do is close his eyes, take in a heady breath of clean air, and lose himself to his own mind.

_Pau_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! 💕
> 
> here you can find [my tumblr](https://weirdfishy.tumblr.com/) or the [original post](https://weirdfishy.tumblr.com/post/642506940250980352/a-million-pieces)


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